Love is
by Royal-Archive
Summary: What is love? Is it burning? Is it passion? What is it, and how can you identify it? An introspective Goku and Vegeta piece written for a friend of mine off Tumblr.


It had been always hard to get away when their wives were still alive. Clandestine meetings in forests, sparring areas, anywhere that could be considered remote enough to warrant as little attention as possible. Vegeta was the master of urban warfare, so he was more than content to let the shorter man pick out the meeting spots if they had to choose a city.

Outside of the city, however? That was his domain, and he reveled in it. Skin against grass, stone, or soft stand. The taste of blood, sweat and the hot spice of the straining body against his was a heady obsession that he didn't know if he wanted, or needed to give up.

More than often, they'd finish their physical conversations, laid out side by side with a breeze chilling bodies still soaked and simmering from sex. Those were the times that he'd listen to the last prince of Vegetasei murmur in the rasp that he had come to claim as his own. Stories of space, of piercing nebulas and warping past the grasping tendrils of hydrogen from supernovas. He could see it in his head as the other man spoke, mayhaps a latent ability from this odd bond they share and has seemed to always share since Vegeta's first arrival.

It didn't matter who topped in these meetings, though it was almost invariably himself. Sometimes the prince needed the release, and he would arrive with fingers curled into claws. His gi would be gone in a matter of seconds, and then it wouldn't matter. It was all teeth, and lips, and skin that tasted like sin, sex and sweat. Other times, it was slow- but somehow still harsh, still primal despite the lower tempo. Those were the times he swore he could hear the other saiyajin's heart beating in time with his own.

Then, there were those quiet times. The times after they've beaten each other, kicked, twisted and decimated everything around them but themselves. When the shorter man lay atop him or to the side of him, legs wrapped around a thick thigh- and hands tracing a circular scar on his chest that almost matches Vegeta's. These were also the only times Vegeta did not wear gloves, and as thus he savored that all the more.

"Vegeta?"

A grunt was his only answer, but a good sign. It meant the former sovereign was talkative.

"Do you ever think of ending this? Or just going back to our wives. To Bulma and ChiChi. Or maybe telling them?"

It was the first time he'd broached a subject like this, and he was both curious and nervous about bringing it up. Heavy thought was never his forte, and he most often listened to his instincts. It felt like it needed to be said, so he did- despite what might happen afterwards.

"… I have." Was his reply, a quiet- affirmative answer in the low rasp.

He felt Vegeta shift, the shorter man pushing to sit up despite the light flit of discomfort that passed over his face. There was no moon, only starlight. This far out, however- there was little to no light pollution. He could see the darker man's visage clearly, dark brows drawn into a furrow with thin lips that pursed slightly in thought.

"I have… and I'm willing to bet that Bulma already knows. She's a smart woman, but we've never been what you would term a "normal" couple." He sighs, running a hand through the sharp spikes of his hair.

"But that doesn't mean I'll leave her. I have a child… two, actually, if you count the one on the way."

He sits up at this, mirroring the other saiyajin. He hesitated before sliding an arm around the shorter man's shoulders, not entirely sure how it'd be taken. It was rewarded with a half shrug, but no attempt to throw it off. Emboldened, he simply moved closer until their hips touched. He's never been exceedingly tactile, not even with ChiChi- so this new need had somewhat scared him until he realized its rewards.

"…So, does this mean we're ending this?"

"Of course not."

"But isn't that considered cheating?"

"Are you human?"

"Well, no- not really."

"Then we can hardly be expected to conform to their standards. THIS is what I've been trying to tell you for damn near a decade and a half, you idiot." The prince's tone is soft, but somehow still vehement- piercing eyes narrowed as they stare into the wider, softer ones of his counterpart. He pulls his lips back over his teeth, baring them at the younger man.

"…But, we are also creatures of honor. I made a promise to the woman, and you made a promise to your's. We will live with them, and see them through to the Underworld… but after that." A one shouldered shrug again, eyes turning out to stare over the horizon.

"After that… while our children raise their own children, we'll have our own future to decide."

He wasn't sure if he was elated or depressed to hear this, to know that there was still decades to go before they could be together openly. However, the elation won out- and the idea of spending the rest of his future with the surly prince was enough to make him tackle the man and pin him down on his back. THIS time he was rewarded by the characteristic cursing and snarling he equated as foreplay.

He did not waste time, and soon enough covered the shorter man's mouth with his own. His tongue followed the contours of the other's lips and teeth before plundering further. The hands that clouted at his head came to rest on his shoulders, fingers curling into claws as he pressed himself closer to the muscular individual below.

Snarls became groans, which became snarls once again as his hands explored south. Fingers brushed over scars and ridges, and then slid around the other's arousal trapped between them. He wasn't sure when the prince began to grind with him, following the path set by his hand- but he does know that tonight was not going to be one of those quiet nights.

He growled lowly in his throat, allowing it to deepen in his chest as he sunk closer to the shorter man. His mouth left the bruised one in front of him to travel down the thick neck, tracing a path over his shoulder- and biting down hard on the flesh there. The earth-raised saiyajin was almost unseated from over the shorter figure at the resulting buck. One of the shorter man's hands came up to come through his own hair, lips pulling back to bare teeth.

He knew Vegeta liked biting. He liked clawing, fucking, twisting and writhing. Anything that drew blood, caused sweat, cursing and screaming was devoured wholly by the shorter man. He knew nothing else except to fill it. A few more harsh strokes gave him the lubrication he needed, and he didn't bother with stretching as the other was still recently fucked from their prior session before the short conversation.

The thrust was the epitome of their relationship. Hard, fast, and full of pain- but with an edge of pleasure that caused a ragged scream out of the shorter man. He smelt the tang of copper, looked down briefly to see a thin line of rust form and then gave it no more thought. He pulled out swiftly, then rammed forward again to seat himself fully to the hilt.

Tonight was not a gentle night.

Teeth in his shoulder set the pace, as the shorter man laid into him with all the ferocity of a rabid animal. A proud ring of red crescents that mirrored the one on his own shoulder. Fingers that grasped, clawed and left furrows in the broad back. Legs that hooked around the thicker warrior's waist, with a heel that burrowed down perfectly into that tail spot.

Sin, sweat, and sex- the three scents, tastes and sensations he equated with nothing but Vegeta. Screams, blood and hot tightness of a body that can take him, all of him and give everything back. Someone who can turn the tables, turn him and make him scream like a banshee. This must be what love feels like. A mouth on his, taking and snarling into the caverns there. Hands that grasp, dig, hold on to. A building sensation of heat, like pulling up the energy for ki- except it's coiling in his body like a golden serpent.

Vegeta's skin reflects gold when he ascends, and he thinks it's the most beautiful fucking thing on the planet. The second most beautiful is the face he makes as the larger warriors plows right into him, slamming just perfectly to make the tendons in the prince's neck stand out. To make his face contort, head thrown back and making not a sound. The third most beautiful thing is the sound of his own release, encased within a twisting, snarling and writhing bundle of saiyajin who throws curses like caresses, and insults like endearments.

He thinks maybe they're destined to be like this, always wrapped and twined around each other. Fucking or fighting, it's all the same in the end. And in the end, the only one he wants to be with for both is his prince.

This must be what love feels like.


End file.
